Amplification
by Samantha Novak
Summary: Sequel to "Morning Gift." A retelling of the episode "Amplification" if Reid were to be infected with Anthrax after having Michaela, set approximately a year and a half after her birth. How would the knowledge that he could die, leaving behind a daughter that needed him, affect him? How does Morgan handle knowing he could lose his husband (EST. in upcoming CHs of MG)?


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _I got this idea rewatching "Amplification." Specifically, the part where Reid and Morgan are supposed to be looking at_ _Nichols'_ _s_ _house and Morgan stops to answer his cell and Reid keeps going. When Morgan runs after Reid and Reid locks him out and says "I'm sorry," a light bulb just_ hit _me and I was like "-Gasp!- This happens after where I set Michaela's birth in the series and- Oooooh!" and so I went and wrote this._

 _I_ _relied heavily on episode dialogue and obviously claim none of it as my own._ _Also, I purposely left out scenes that didn't contain Reid or Morgan because the MG series is in their POVs. And any scenes they were in that are left out are because they wouldn't contribute to this story in regards to this case in relation to having a daughter. For example, the scene with Morgan and Prentiss in the park just after the one with Reid and Dr. Kimura at the hospital. To me, Derek is too calm as he works it out with Prentiss to be worrying about Michaela the way Spencer is in the scene with JJ. It would be so much like watching the episode so I cut it out. Hopefully this story came out alright with this approach…_

* * *

"Mommy's gonna get you!"

The shriek of a toddler's laughter pierced the air followed by rapid footfalls of tiny feet on hardwood and softer, slower steps of a larger set of feet.

"Michaela," Spencer sing-songed, reaching his hands out to his daughter though he didn't extend them far enough to actually _catch_ her. "Mommy's gonna get you!"

Michaela shrieked again and giggled before wiggling underneath the end table beside the rocker. At a year and a half, Michaela no longer breastfed (the weaning process had saddened Reid as he'd realized he'd be losing a special time he shared with his baby) so the rocker was mostly used in her bedtime routine now. Once tucked underneath, she giggled up at her mother.

Spencer knelt down a few feet from the end table, chuckling. "What are you doing under there? Are you hiding from Mommy?"

Michaela giggled and nodded vigorously. "Mommy!" she chirped happily.

"You don't want Mommy to catch you?" he asked, dropping down to sit cross-legged in front of her.

Michaela seemed to think this over then crawled out from under the table and up into Spencer's lap. "Mommy!" she chirped again, reaching for him.

Laughing, Spencer lifted her up to pepper kisses all over her face which earned more peals of laughter. Just as he settled her back down in his arms, Derek appeared in the doorway of the nursery, chuckling when he saw them.

"Daddy!" Michaela cried happily, wiggling out of Spencer's hold to toddle toward her father.

"Hey, Mickey," Derek cooed as he knelt to pick her up. "Are you having fun with Mommy?"

Michaela nodded happily.

"That's good. But I've got an idea," he said, bouncing her slightly to get another giggle. "What if Nana Fran comes over to play?"

Spencer, who had been watching the interaction between Derek and their daughter with an affectionate smile, frowned at the mention of Fran coming over. As far as he knew, they didn't have plans to go anywhere so there wasn't a need for Fran to babysit.

"Derek?" he asked quietly.

"JJ called. Case nearby. Don't need a go bag. We won't be far," he assured Spencer.

Spencer nodded and stood, gently taking Michaela from Derek and tucking her against his shoulder, one hand wrapped under her bottom to hold her up and the other resting on the back of her head, fingers lightly combing through her hair. No matter what the case, how far they went from their home, how long they were away, Spencer had trouble leaving her. It had started the first time they left after their family leave was over just after her birth and had never gone away. Sure, it got easier, but he could shut off the nagging part of his brain that warned him this could be the last time their daughter got to see them.

"We'll be fine, pretty boy," Derek assured him as he did ever time, pulling his phone from his pocket to call his mother.

Spencer nodded but still pressed a kiss to Michaela's temple. Just as with every case, he held her on his hip as he and Derek moved about the house to gather their belongings: bag, badge, wallet, shoes, go bag if necessary. They both left their rings at home whenever they knew they were going into the field. If they were going to be in the office all day, they'd wear them, but neither wanted to chance losing them in the field.

When Fran arrived, they said their goodbyes and left Michaela with her grandmother, promising to be back as soon as they could before leaving for the office. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as they parked, signed in, and made their way up to their floor, joining Prentiss in the elevator. However, as they stepped out into their floor, they were met with several soldiers among their agents and several other people the three didn't recognize.

"What's the army doing here?" Derek asked, sounding almost offended they had called in help already.

"What the hell is going on?" Prentiss added, just as confused.

When they joined the rest of their team in the conference room, they were met with another unfamiliar face whom JJ immediately introduced.

"Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC."

"Hello," Dr. Kimura said when Prentiss offered her a greeting. "I'm sorry to meet under these circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Spencer asked, confusing building. Why were there so many new people milling about? What was going on?

"We need to get started," Hotch said, bringing Spencer back into focus. Of course, Hotch would tell them what was going on!

"Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis," JJ said as the team began following along with their files, met with photos of victims in hospitals. "They were all at the same ark after two p.m. yesterday. Within ten hours, the first victim died. It's now just past seven a.m. the next day, we have twelve dead."

"Lung failure and black lesions," Derek said, reading out of his file. "Anthrax?"

"Anthrax doesn't kill this fast," Spencer countered his husband.

"This strain does," Dr. Kimura added, confirming Derek's assumption.

"What are we doing about potential mass targets? Airports, malls, trains?" Prentiss asked, looking around the table at the others gathered.

"There's a media blackout," Hotch said firmly.

"We're not telling the public?" Prentiss said, clearly apalled.

"We'd have a mass exodus," Derek said in understanding.

"The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack," Rossi confirmed.

"Yeah, and whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples," Spencer finished, trying not to let the little nugget of worry in the back of his brain get the better of him as images of his daughter's smiling face from just an hour ago flashed through his mind.

"Or, if they wanted attention and didn't get it, they might attack again," Prentiss pressed. "Doesn't the public have the right to know that?"

"If there is another attack, there's no way we'll be able to keep it quiet," Hotch explained. "Our best chance at protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can."

"What do we know about this strain?" Spencer asked, pushing all thoughts of his daughter away. He couldn't afford to worry. She was safe with Fran and they'd stop this before anyone else got sick. He just had to focus so that could happen sooner rather than later.

"The spores are weaponized, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs," Dr. Kimura explained. "Odorless and invisible."

"A sophisticated strain," Rossi concluded. "Only a scientist would know how to do that."

Derek, having been going over his file again, added, "These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours."

"It's no the lesions I'm worried about," Dr. Kimura admitted. "It's the lungs. We don't know how to combat the toxins once their inside. And th reality is, we may lose them all."

"The remaining survivors have all been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital," JJ said, an attempt to move things along that Spencer was grateful for after the Dr. Kimura's statement made the little nugget of worry in his mind nag at him insistently. "Our offices will become a small command center."

"We'll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick," Hotch added.

"General Whitworth is coming here?" Rossi asked.

"He's in charge of site containment and spore analysis," Hotch confirmed. "Determining what strain this is will help inform who's responsible."

"My team is in charge of treating all victims," Dr. Kimura added.

"Reid," Hotch said, using the agent's maiden name since Spencer had made it clear after he and Derek married that he wanted to remain Dr. _Reid_ at work while taking Derek's name in their personal lives, a decision Derek was fully supportive of. "Go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital. Interview the victims. Morgan and Prentiss, there's a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There's Cipro; everybody needs to take it before we go."

"We don't know if it's effective against this strain," Dr. Kimura said as a tray with several plastic cups of water and small pills was passed around, each agent taking one of each. "But it's something."

"This is really happening," Prentiss said, taking her own.

"We knew this could happen," Hotch pointed out. "We've done our homework, we've prepared for this. This is it."

They all took their doses of Cipro, most wearing somber expressions. This was more than their usual case. An unsub capturing and torturing victims or shooting them in the park was one thing but this… This had the potential to be very deadly, very fast.

~oOoOo~

"Do you have those files I've been looking for?" Spencer asked, rushing into JJ's office. She'd had extra files of patients in the hospital that he needed before he could leave with Dr. Kimura which was supposed to be soon.

"Did you see this memo from the director?" JJ asked instead, pointing at her computer screen and making no move to help locate the needed files as Spencer began rifling through stacks on her desk. "Office phones and e-mails are being monitored."

"Yeah, they're trying to protect the media blackout," Spencer said distractedly. "Files?"

"Right here," JJ said, placing her hand atop a stack near the edge.

"Thanks," Spencer said, picking up a few from the top. "I wanna see what kind of medical treatment the victims received before I head tot he hospital."

"Why do you think the suspect in two-thousand and one stopped sending the letters?" JJ asked.

"I have no idea," Spencer said distractedly, already rifling through the first file. "But if he hadn't, it would have been much worse."

"The worst part was not knowing when it was gonna be over," JJ added. "Feeling safe opening mail again.

"Five people died, many more exposed and sickened, including a baby who was admitted to the hospital after lesions appeared on his skin," Spencer said, reading from one of the files though he was recalling facts from the case JJ had just mentioned. His heart lurched in his chest but he refused to let anything show to JJ. Michaela was safe at home with Fran, he kept repeating to himself.

"How did he contract it?" JJ asked.

"I have no idea, must have come into close contact with a tainted letter o the unsub himself," Spencer said.

"How old was the baby?"

"Seven months," Spencer said, mildly relieved that Michaela was more than double that age. And she was safe with Fran. At home.

"Did he survive?" JJ asked.

"I gotta run. Kimura's waiting. I'll call you from the hospital," Spencer said hurriedly, gathering his files and preparing to leave. He knew the answer to that question and he didn't want to think about it because it made him worry about his daughter and he was already worrying about Derek going with Prentiss to a potentially contaminated location and he knew JJ was likely worrying about Henry but he just _couldn't_ handle any more worry!

"Spence!" JJ called, forcing him to freeze just outside the door and turn back to peer in at her. "Did the baby survive?" she asked again, an almost heartbroken expression on her face. She'd probably taken his dismissal to mean he wasn't worried about his own child but Spencer couldn't deal with that kind of conversation. It was easier to immerse himself into the case and catch whoever was responsible as quickly as they could.  
"Yeah, but, I mean, that was a curable strain," he said. "This thing's entirely different."

Before she could ask any more questions or force him to talk about the worry they both clearly felt for their children, he hurried away from her office.

~oOoOo~

Spencer slowly entered the hospital room of the first victim he and Dr. Kimura wanted to see, a young girl who couldn't be any older than her teens. Dr. Kimura followed him in and stood just behind him as they approached the side of the bed.

"Hi, Abby," she said quietly. "You feeling any better?"

Abby slowly shook her head, watching the two behind half-lidded, tired eyes.

"Okay. This Agent Reid from the FBI," Dr. Kimura continued, still speaking in a soft, calming tone. "If you can, will you talk with him?"

Abby slowly nodded.

"Abby," Spencer said, easily adopting that same gentle tone. It was similar to the way he spoke to Michaela late at night when he was trying to get her back to sleep those rare nights she woke in the middle of the night. It always soothed and lulled her back to sleep when he spoke to her softly while rocking her. "I'd like to try to do a memory recall exercise with you to take you back to the park, if that's okay."

Abby nodded again.

"I need you to close your eyes," he said then began the exercise when she had.

They didn't get very far before Abby stopped speaking in coherent sentences. She became upset when she couldn't get what she _wanted_ to say to come out. She tried several times before Dr. Kimura gently quieted her and told her to rest before taking Spencer from the room.

"What's causing her aphasia?" Spencer asked once they were safely in the hall though he still kept his tone soft.

"The poison is infecting the parietal lobe, impairing her speech," Dr. Kimura said. "Some of the other patients displayed the same symptoms shortly before they died."

"None of the drug combinations are working?" Spencer asked.

"The only thing that's helping them right now is the morphine," Dr. Kimura said sadly.

~oOoOo~

Spencer watched Dr. Kimura work as one of the patients lost their fight with the sickness the Anthrax had caused. While he watched the doctors work on the man in the bed, he kept imagining Abby, the teen he'd just interviewed. Dr. Kimura said aphasia set in shortly before death. Abby was going to die. And soon if they couldn't figure this out and get a cure made _fast_.

Thoughts of being unable to save Abby quickly shifted to thoughts of Michaela back at home with Fran. Spencer wanted so badly to call Fran and warn her not to take Michaela outside today. _Don't take her to the park, don't even take her into the backyard._ But he couldn't. Not without attracting attention from his superiors for disobeying the media blackout. Maybe he should call JJ after all. She had a baby, she knew how he was feeling. She'd even tried to talk to him earlier about it but he'd dismissed her. Maybe he shouldn't have.

Before he could panic too much, the prolonged beep of a flatlining heart monitor pulled Spencer back to the present just as Dr. Kimura stepped out of the room. Spencer quickly pushed his worries away and fell back into his role as Agent Reid.

"Thirty-eight-year old high school history teacher," she said as the two fell into step beside each other. "Leaves two kids behind."

"That's seventeen out of twenty-five dead," Spencer said, letting a little bit of agitation bleed through his voice. They were losing too many! They might lose Abby!

Dr. Kimura took a breath, not liking this just as much as Spencer wasn't. "This strain is duplicating," she said. "Every thirty to forty-five minutes. It's poisoning the lungs, causing massive hemorrhaging and organ failure."

"Extreme bacterial amplification," Spencer said thoughtfully, mind already going to work, piecing together what they knew to find _some_ kind of clue. "Whoever created this had to at some point go through the trouble of testing it."

"What do you mean?" Dr. Kimura asked.

"Think about the way scientists work their way up to human testing. They start with rodents, then advance to larger mammals, and then at some point, they do a very small trial run with people," he explained. "There's no way this was his first human test run."

"We would have heard about a previous Anthrax attack," Dr. Kimura countered.

"Not if it presented itself as something else," Spencer said.

~oOoOo~

As it turned out, Spencer was right. Three people died of apparent meningitis at separate hospitals. Garcia found their connection to a bookstore that had recently closed and when the store was tested, they found traces of Anthrax. While Spencer stayed with Dr. Kimura at the hospital, the rest of their team had returned to their offices and had finished and delivered a profile they could use.

With their profile, they found Dr. Nichols, a scientist who had been forced out of Fort Detrick and kept from obtaining other higher positions and projects. He'd been downgraded to working on the flu for a new company. He'd been divorced as well which fit their profile.

That was how Spencer and Derek found themselves investigating Dr. Nichols's home.

"This guy had people over for a charity event just last month," Derek pointed out.

"We should probably take a look around anyway," Spencer said, following his husband toward the house. As he did, his hand brushed against thorns on a bush and he hissed slightly in surprise, shaking out his hand.

As they made their way up to the house, Derek stopped when his cellphone rang. Hearing that it was Prentiss, Spencer continued up to the house without his husband. Derek would follow him in when he finished the call. But when he got inside, he froze at what he saw. Vials of white powder, air on full blast, and Dr. Nichols's body.

Fear curled its icy grip around Spencer's heart as his eyes locked onto the vials of powder. No. Nononono! He'd unknowingly walked into an Anthrax hot zone and was very likely infected! How could he have been so stupid?! He could _die_ because of this and then Michaela would be without her mother! She'd have Derek, yes, but-

His thoughts were interrupted by Derek calling him out by last name, voice growing more worried and closer to the house.

No! Derek couldn't come in here! He'd be infected, too, and then Michaela would be an orphan – Spencer's biggest fear from the moment his daughter was born. He couldn't let that happen! If she lost Spencer, that was one thing, but losing both parents… Spencer couldn't let that happen!

"Morgan, get- get back! Get back!" he snapped, rushing to shut and lock the door to keep his husband out. "Get out of here!"

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, clearly angry and confused with Spencer's actions. "What's wrong? Reid, open the door!" he said firmly even as Spencer locked it.

With Derek safely locked out, Spencer's panic faded slightly as he met his husband's eyes through the glass. "I'm sorry," he whispered before turning away from the glass to let Derek see _why_ he couldn't follow Spencer.

"Spencer," he whispered, eyes widening in horror.

"I'm so sorry, Derek," Spencer whispered, turning back to the glass. Tears filled his eyes as all the worries for their daughter that he'd bottled up all day and the realization that he'd just walked right into his own death sank in. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey," Derek said softly, placing his hand on the glass near Spencer's face. "We'll get you out and get you cleaned up and you'll be okay. You took Cipro before being exposed. That has to mean something, right?"

Spencer shook his head, sniffling slightly. "We don't know anything about this strain. It's not helping anyone at the hospital and even if I have taken it before, we can't be sure it will do me any good. I've been infected. I-" He took a deep breath and placed his hand over Derek's against the glass. "All day, I've been afraid of being away from Michaela when another attack could happen anywhere at any time. I've been terrified something was going to happen to her. But I couldn't check on her without alerting your mother. And now…" He sniffed again, bringing his other hand up to wipe at his eyes. "She's going to lose her mother, Derek…"

"No!" Derek snapped, the hand against the glass curling into a fist. "She won't. I promise, we're going to fix this and find a cure and you'll be okay. We are _both_ going to go home to our daughter at the end of all of this, you hear me?"

Spencer sniffled but nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Derek said. "But this isn't the end so don't start acting like it."

Spencer nodded again and laughed slightly. "Okay."

~oOoOo~

Derek had called Hotch and had informed him of what they had found. It didn't take long for them to arrive and begin setting in motion plans to get Spencer out. Derek tried to reason that Spencer would be okay since he'd taken Cipro _before_ being infected but General Whitworth had given him almost the same reaction as Spencer – they didn't know for sure what the effects of this strain were on someone who'd already taken it.

Before he could argue any further, Hotch's phone rang.

"Reid," he said as he answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Hotch, I really messed up this time," Spencer said.

Derek looked up and saw Spencer watching them through the window.

"Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital," Hotch ordered.

"No, I'm staying right here."

Derek glared at the phone even though his husband's face was a few feet away. "No, you're not, Reid," he said firmly. How could Spencer even _think_ about not getting out and cleaned up and treated?! He'd just told Derek how afraid he was of Michaela losing one of them!

"I'm already exposed, it's not gonna do be any good to stop working the case," Spencer snapped, turning away from the glass.

"He's already infected," Whitworth said. "Now, if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure."

"My best chance is to stay here, see if there's a cure, try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols," Spencer said, already moving around the little office. He had to keep moving. If he stopped working, he'd think about Michaela without him and he'd break and he'd let Derek get him out and to the hospital and that wouldn't do any of them any good. It wouldn't save Abby and it wouldn't stop whoever was doing this.

He heard Derek and Hotch speaking in low tones but ignored it until Hotch spoke up, clearly talking to Spener.

"We're going to get a suit and mask into you right away."

"Don't bother. It's not gonna do me any good. I'm already infected," Spencer snapped, self loathing rearing its head at the fact he had to admit that he'd been infected. Because he'd been _stupid_.

"Reid, what do you see in there?" Hotch asked.

Spencer turned in a circle, taking in the surroundings and moving through the space as he answered. "I see cages filled with dead animals. I see signs of a struggle, probably before Dr. Nichols was murdered. Equipment's missing. There's a large desk, clutter all over the surface. But in the corner," he added, hurrying across the room. "There's a smaller desk, it's organized, functional."

"Two different work spaces?" Derek asked.

"Two sets of handwriting," Spencer added, leafing through files and comparing notes from both desks. "I'm looking at instructions on how to boil lab-grade broth, sterilize lab equipment, and transfer spores. He has a partner, maybe even a protege," Spencer added, ignoring whatever Whitworth had said to Hotch and Morgan. "Go back tot he BAU, try to figure out who this partner is."

~oOoOo~

 _"Hey, Reid."_

Spencer's heart sank at the not-so-Garcia greeting from Garcia. "'Reid', wow. No, uh… No witty Garcia greeting for me?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood. He was scared enough as it was, he'd called Garcia in hopes she could cheer him up. She'd probably tell him the same things Derek had been telling him but her bubbly personality would do the trick.

 _"I can't be my sparkly self when you are where you are,"_ she said sadly.

Spencer nodded to himself. He probably should have expected that. For all of Garcia's peppiness, she cared about their family and when she worried, she felt it very strongly. It shouldn't have surprised him that she wasn't as bubbly as he'd hoped.

"Garcia," he said, deciding to move along to the other reason he'd called. "Do you think you can do something for me?"

 _"Anything."_

"I, uh… I know I can't call my mom without alerting everyone at her hospital, or Michaela and Fran without worrying Fran," he said, having to clear his throat as emotion formed a lump in his throat.

 _"What do you need?"_

"I, uh… I need you to record a couple of messages in case anything happens to me," Spencer admitted.

 _"Oh, nothing's gonna happen to you. You're gonna… brilliantly find out who did this and we're gonna treat this strain."_

Spencer exhaled a deep breath, forcing away worry as Garcia's confidence calmed him even slightly. "I hope you're right, but if you're not, I just- I really want to make sure that my mom and Michaela hear my voice. Michaela is-" He broke off and took a deep breath before trying again. "Michaela is too young to remember me if- if we can't fix this. I want- I need her to be able to hear me telling her everything a mother should tell their child because I- I won't be… around to… to tell her myself."

Garcia was quiet for a second then finally, _"Okay. Just, uh, give me a second."_

He heard her typing at her computer, likely pulling up the programs she'd need to record their call for him. "Are you ready?" he asked.

 _"Ready."_

It took him a bit of struggling but he managed to say what he wanted to to his mother. Then he had to draw in a deep breath and calm himself before saying what he wanted for his daughter. If they couldn't treat this and he died, he wanted her to have something she could play whenever she needed to hear his voice and he needed it to be calm for her. This wasn't supposed to make her sad if she ever had to listen to it so he couldn't let her hear the sadness in his voice.

"Hi, Mickey," he said, refraining from cooing like he would if he were speaking to his eighteen-month-old baby. She'd be older if she ever had to listen to this. Then he huffed a laugh when he realized what he'd just called her. "Your dad probably calls you that but I never- I never did. I don't know why I did just now. But, um… If you're playing this – and I can't believe I'm using this cliched line, but, um… If this was given to you, then… I'm not around. But I had Aunt Garcia record this for me because you were too little at the time to remember me and I wanted… I wanted you to have heard your mother and know who I was. And I wanted you to hear me say that..." He swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "That I love you and I'm grateful I got to be your mother even if it wasn't for long. I'm sure you'll grow up to be a very smart, very beautiful young woman and… and I'm sorry I'm not there to see it. I love you, Michaela."

As soon as he finished what he wanted to say for his daughter, a sob caught in his throat and the tears he'd been blinking back spilled from his eyes.

 _"_ _Reid?"_ he heard Garcia ask but he couldn't answer her yet, trying to catch his breath and calm himself.

Then he heard muffled voices outside and saw Dr. Kimura through the glass.

"I gotta go," he said hurriedly then ended the call, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes.

He'd just dropped his hands when Dr. Kimura stepped in, wearing a full protective suit.

"Dr. Reid," she greeted.

"You look nice," he said, trying to hide how emotional he'd just been.

Dr. Kimura laughed. "I haven't been in this outfit for a while."

"How are- How are the patients doing?" he said, finally calming himself enough to breath easier without the threat of a sob escaping.

"Let's worry about you," Dr. Kimura said evasively.

"I actually- I feel fine," he said dismissively. She didn't need to know about his minor breakdown a moment ago.

"Okay. If you feel any pain, I could give you something," Dr. Kimura offered.

"I- I'd rather not take any pain medication," he said. Ever since Tobias Hankel, medications had been a touchy subject for Spencer. It had taken the knowledge that it would help his baby in the long run to start taking anti-depressants when he'd developed depression after her birth. While that worked out alright, he still was wary about taking anything.

"We can at least make you feel more comfortable," Dr. Kimura pressed.

"I am comfortable and I don't want to take any narcotics," Spencer snapped.

"Okay," she said slowly, clearly confused at his firm refusal but she let it go. "Tell me how I can help."

Grateful for the distraction from their minor argument and his message to Michaela, Spencer immediately slipped back into his Agent mindset, easily telling her what he had concluded. "I think the cure for this strain is in here somewhere."

"Well, should I start here?" she asked, gesturing to a nearby desk.

"Dr. Nichols is a former military scientists which means he's most likely secretive and most likely a little paranoid," Spencer said, hurrying across the room. "He would have protected the cure and probably would have hidden it from his partner so look for something innocuous, something you would not suspect."

"Alright," she said and began looking.

Spencer's phone rang and he coughed as he pulled it out. "Hello?"

"How's it going in there, pretty boy?" Derek asked, falling back on the nickname he used when they were at work instead of "baby" like when they were at home. Before they were a couple, the nickname had been Derek's way of showing affection. Now, it was like a code to them. It was their way of using a term of endearment while still being professional.

"I've seen better days," Spencer said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone.

"Well, you got me and Garcia," Derek said followed by Garcia's subdued "Hey, Reid."

Spencer couldn't reply, a slightly harsher cough pulling from his chest.

"Spence, stick with me," Derek said. "Listen, Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner was a coworker. Can you tell us anything else about him?"

"I… I've already been through everything," Spencer said breathily.

"Come on now, pretty boy, I know you're not thinking straight but the Reid I know wouldn't stop looking," Derek said confidently.

Encouraged by his husband's faith in him, Spencer looked around then hurried to another part of the small lab. "Alright, alright." He cleared his throat again. "I see a, uh, a framed photograph of Dr. Nichols teaching. I see a… I see a binder with syllabi," he said, voice breathy again. He knew it wasn't from emotion this time and knew it was getting harder to breath as the Anthrax attacked his lungs. But he couldn't let his fear manifest in his voice. "Course assignments… Going all the way back to the nineteen-seventies."

"Alright, so he kept a scrapbook of himself as a professor. That tells us that he values himself as an educator," Derek concluded.

"A teacher," Spencer said thoughtfully, mind piecing together what he knew as he hurried across the room again. "I saw something earlier. I didn't- I didn't make a connection to it or to the partner but he has a study on Anthrax," he said picking up the file he'd found earlier and flipping through it. "He has an annotated bibliography, table of contents… It's formatted like a thesis and has writing in the margins in red ink like the way a teacher grades a paper. Now, Nichols wouldn't have let just anyone in here but he may have opened his lab for educational purposes, as a teacher."

"So the partner must have appealed to him as a student. Nichols is helping him with his thesis," Derek said in realization.

"I- I can look up local Ph.D. students," Garcia offered.

"Yeah," Derek agreed. "Check the sciences. Biochemistry, microbiology.

"Cross-checking with names of former employees or customers with grievances at the bookstore," Garcia said as she typed furiously at her computer. "Nothing, my doves."

"Listen to this," Spencer said before coughing again. "'This country is woefully unprepared. Every household should have a two-month supply of Cipro. Hospitals are in need of bio-safety level four decon wings'."

"That's verbatim to what we heard from Nichols," Derek said, remembering the video of Nichols's hearing. "The partner's adopted Nichols's views as his own."

"The chapters are on setting up triage and mobile emergency rooms," Spencer said, flipping through the thesis. "I don't think this paper was written by a science student. It's about city preparedness and response."

"So, Garcia, check with students in the social studies," Derek instructed. "Public Policy, Urban Planning."

After a few seconds of furious typing, Garcia's computer made a beeping noise. "Hot to trot," she said triumphantly. "There's a Chad Brown, school of public policy at U of M. Matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front."

"That's gotta be him," Derek said.

"Totally," Garcia agreed. "He's been in the doctoral program on and off for five years, nix on a steady job, was slapped with a restraining order from his former girlfriend and has been arrested and released twice at protest rallies in D.C. I'll tell Hotch."

"Pretty boy, you did real good," Derek said. "Now get the hell outta there."

"Bye," Spencer said before coughing again and closing up the files he'd been looking through.

"Dr. Reid," Dr. Kimura called, hurrying toward him with something in her hand. "You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn't suspect. What about Nichols's inhaler?"

Spencer eyed the item in her hand, everything sinking into place. _That_ had to be it! She'd found it! The last few victims – and himself – were all going to be okay! His daughter wouldn't have to grow up without her mother!

They exited the house into a sealed "gray area" to clean him up before he was safe to step into the public again. Derek stood safely behind the glass, watching Kimura spray Spencer down. Derek confirmed to Hotch that Spencer was out and being cleaned up then informed Spencer that the team was going to investigate Brown's home.

"Go help Hotch," Spencer said between coughing.

"Hotch has plenty of people helping him," Derek countered.

"He needs you more than I do," Spencer argued.

"Reid, I'm gonna see you off to the hospital," Derek said firmly.

"I'm about to get naked so they can scrub me down," Spencer said, flicking his eyes toward his husband's lower half then toward the nearby techs in a clear message. "Is that something you really wanna see?" While, in other circumstances, seeing his husband naked was obviously a good thing, now was not the time to be fighting a boner that would be obvious in the slacks Derek wore.

Derek lifted his chin in understanding then nodded. "I'll check on you later. Take good care of him, please," he ordered the technicians around his husband before departing.

"Get this to the lab," Dr. Kimura ordered one of the other techs in a similar suit to hers, passing him the inhaler then turning to Spencer. "I hope you're right about this."

"So do I," Spencer admitted, undoing his tie.

"Dr. Reid, did you cut yourself?" Dr. Kimura asked, her tone bordering on urgent.

Spencer paused, examining the hand he'd been using to pull at his tie. There was a wound on the back from when he'd brushed the thorns of the bush outside. He hadn't noticed it had gotten that deep. And if he'd had an open wound all this time…

He may not be as out of the woods as he thought he was a moment ago.

~oOoOo~

"How are you feeling, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer coughed again, closing his eyes and trying to take deep breaths through the nasal canula resting under his nose as Dr. Kimura listened to his lung sounds. The ambulance siren wailed in the background.

"My throat's a little dry," he admitted in a scratchy voice. "But other than that, I feel…" He paused to try to take another breath before attempting to continue. "Flee… feel fin," he said through gritted teeth then became more frustrated when it didn't come out right. If aphasia was setting in, that meant he was getting worse! He needed to get to the hospital and they needed to analyze the cure! If he could just force his words out clearly, he couldn't be that sick. "I feel- I fleel fin- I-"

"Dr. Reid, okay," Dr. Kimura soothed, seeing him trying to force the word out correctly and failing. "Driver, faster."

As they picked up speed, Spencer coughed again and felt blood trickle from his mouth. No! No, no, no, he was supposed to get better!

~oOoOo~

As Derek entered their office again, he was met with a worried expression from Garcia.

"Derek," she said in that same subdued, quiet voice she'd been speaking in the whole time Spencer had been in that house. But he was out now and he was going to be okay so why was she still so upset? "Dr. Kimura called. Reid's in trouble."

"What do you mean?" he asked, worry for his husband flaring up.

"He got way sicker on the way to the hospital. He's in respiratory distress," Garcia said.

"Listen, he is with the people that can help him the most," Hotch said then turned to Derek. "I need everybody's head here right now," he added, giving Derek a look that told him he knew his agent was worried about his husband – they were all worried about Reid – but they couldn't afford to let it get to them.

"Okay, so, uh, we spoke to Brown's sister," JJ said, getting them back on track. "They've been estranged for years."

"Did she say anything about the park or the bookstore?" Derek asked, forcing himself to stay focused. Hotch was right, Spencer was with Dr. Kimura and they had the cure. Everything would be okay.

"Quiet Hills Park was where he proposed to a girl. She said no," JJ said. "The bookstore's here he worked to put himself through college. I guess he's bitter about not getting promoted."

"So both locations represent rejection to him," Hotch concluded.

"So what's our next move?" Derek asked, needing to be _doing_ something to keep from agonizing over his sick husband.

"Prentiss and Rossi found maps of transit systems at his house," Hotch said.

"Dr. Nichols wrote a classified study commissioned by the U.S. Senate," General Whitworth said, joining them. "It simulated a mock Anthrax attack on the D.C. train systems. Now, he emphasized the main line – the red line – as most vulnerable to an attack. Forceful tunnel winds, biggest crowds, highest mortality risk. Now, I deployed teams to every stop on the red line."

"I don't think he's targeting the red line," Hotch countered.

"But you said he adopted all of Nichols's ideas," Whitworth countered angrily. "Wouldn't he want to prove this theory?"

"We also said that he chooses locations that are personal to him, ones that represent rejection," Hotch countered calmly yet firmly. "What is the one place that has rejected him over and over again?"

"Fort Detrick," Derek answered.

"It'd be impossible for him to get in," Whitworth said as if that trumped Hotch's theory.

"He wouldn't have to attack the fort. He could go after the people that work there or on their commute," Derek explained.

"The closest station to the Marc train is Frederick," JJ said.

"Get on the line to Maryland transit," Hotch commanded her.

"But the study said the red line," Whitworth said.

"The profile says he's going to Frederick," Hotch said firmly. "That's where I'm going and I could really use your help."

It didn't take long before they were in their SUVs, Derek riding shotgun with Hotch.

"No gas masks," he said into his coms system. "Repeat, no gas masks. Rush hour crowd sees anyone in a mask, there's gonna be a stampede."

"Morgan, I want you to stay aboveground and help the crowds. I'm gonna go down by myself," Hotch instructed.

"Not a chance, Hotch," Derek countered coolly.

"Morgan, we're a man down. If the area's infected, we can't risk losing both of us as well," Hotch explained.

The mention of Spencer only fueled Derek's stubborn desire to take out Brown himself. Spencer was sick because of this man and Derek was going to make sure he was captured. "We are a team," he said. "We're gonna go down as a team."

Hotch is silent for a moment, looking between Derek and the road.

"Besides," Derek added, "Spencer is pretty sure he found the cure and if anyone could have, it's him. So even if we are going into a hot zone, they have a cure."

That was how they both wound up descending into the subway crowds in search of Brown. They easily spotted him and Hotch weaved through the crowds to approach him while Derek boarded the subway to evacuate. Once done, he crept up behind Hotch, gun in hand. Whitworth had joined them and was praising Brown for his creation. Derek knew it was an act but he still wanted to shoot Brown right there. Spencer was sick because this man was throwing a tantrum!

"Sir, please come with me," Whitworth was saying.

"Where?" Brown asked.

"Fort Detrick, sir," Whitworth said.

"You want me to go to Fort Detrick?" Brown asked hopefully.

"We need you, sir. Please," Whitworth said, playing into the guy's need for approval.

"I helped create this. You have to name it after me!" Brown said.

"Of course," Whitworth said with a slight bit of irritation. "Standard practice. Now hand me the bag so we can go on our way."

Brown willingly removed his bag and passed it over and Morgan felt himself tense. If that bag fell and the bulbs inside shattered, they'd all be infected.

"Are there any other samples present?" Whitworth asked.

"No," Brown said, shaking his head.

"Move in," Hotch quietly ordered Derek who waited until the bag was safely in Whitwroth's hands before moving to grab Brown's arms and pull them behind his back.

"What are you doing?!" he cried in surprise. "General! General!" he called as Derek led him away – a little rougher than strictly necessary but he was still angry that his husband could have _died_ because of Brown. "I can help recreate this for you!"

~oOoOo~

The steady beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing Spencer became aware of. Then he heard chatter and phones ringing and footsteps nearby. He must be in the hospital and not the ambulance which was the last place he remembered being. As he cracked his eyes open, he could make out the silhouette of his husband sitting in a chair near the bed, scraping a plastic spoon through a Jell-O cup and reading a magazine.

"Are you eating Jell-O?" he asked though it came out as mostly a whisper first and his throat still felt scratchy and sore from all the coughing.

His attention immediately snapped to Spencer and he smiled affectionately when he saw the smaller man awake. "Hey, pretty boy." Then he turned toward the open door. "Hey, Doc. Look who's back."

"Is there any more Jell-O?" Spencer asked as Dr. Kimura entered the room. Actually, he'd settle for chasing the taste of Derek's Jell-O cup from his husband's lips but that wasn't going to happen…

"Hey," Dr. Kimura greeted as Spencer shifted to sit more upright in the bed. "Not so fast."

"What happened?" Spencer asked.

"You're gonna be alright. And we got Brown," Derek said. "It's over."

"How's Abby?" Spencer asked, remembering the girl he'd interviewed that morning. Had they been able to save her? If he was going to be okay, she had to be, too, right?

"She's on the mend," Dr. Kimura confirmed. "So are the three others. You were right about where to look for his cure."

"Why was Dr. Nichols making Anthrax in the first place?" Spencer asked.

"He was a brilliant scientist downgraded to working on the flu. Brown comes along asking for help on his thesis…"

"…would have been more than happy to share his knowledge," Spencer finished, settling back against the pillow as he realized just how tired he still felt.

"There was no indication that Nichols had any idea what Brown was planning," Derek added.

"His strain and its cure are getting locked up in containment at Fort Detrick. With all the other bio-agents people don't know about," Dr. Kimura said.

"Hm. What else do they have in there?" Derek said thoughtfully.

~oOoOo~

"You sure you're okay?"

"Derek, I'm fine," Spencer grumbled as the older man slipped an arm around him as he got out of the car.

"Just humor me," Derek said, tugging Spencer closer to his side and pushing the car door closed. "I almost lost you today. I wanna make sure you're still alive and breathing."

Spencer sighed in mild frustration but let his husband lead him up to the house. He saw Clooney push himself into the front window then bark before disappearing again. Chuckling, he pushed the door open to see the dog wiggling excitedly in front of them. Laughing, Derek stepped away from Spencer to greet their dog, effectively keeping him from getting too excited and jostling Spencer.

"Hey, you're home!"

Spencer's attention was pulled from Derek and the dog to Fran coming out of the kitchen, Michaela on her hip. The little girl's eyes widened when she saw her parents and she began wiggling in her grandmother's arms.

"Mommy! Mommy!" she cried happily.

Spencer hurried across the room and gently took his daughter, tucking her against his shoulder and burying his nose into her hair. One arm held her securely while the other hand carded through her hair.

"Hi, honey," he breathed in relief, closing his eyes and gently swaying with her. "Mommy missed you so much."

Fran, used to somewhat emotional reunions between Spencer and his daughter after cases that were long or emotionally rough on him, let him have his moment and crossed to her son.

"Everything go okay?" she asked, glancing toward Spencer to indicate his reaction.

Derek nodded. "I can't tell you what we had to deal with today but… something happened we thought Spencer was going to… to, um… We thought he wasn't gonna make it. He spent today worried that he wasn't going to see Michaela again. I'm not surprised he just needs to hold onto her for a while."

Fran nodded then clasped her hands together with a cleansing huff. "Well! I made dinner and I saved you some. I'll get it warmed up."

Derek thanked her and watched her disappear into the kitchen before daring to approach Spencer who still swayed with Michaela, nose pressed into her hair.

"Everything's okay, babe," he said, slipping his arms around Spencer's waist without stopping Spencer's swaying, effectively wrapping his husband and daughter in a hug.

"I know," Spencer whispered, moving his hand from Michaela's hair to rub her back and pressing his lips to her temple. "I know."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _I cried a little bit writing Reid's message to Michaela. I know how the episode goes and I knew that was how this would end, but just imagining something happening to him that left Michaela without her mommy… Made me cry._

 _Anyway, I hope this came out alright and wasn't too much like just reading the episode… It just really hit me when watching the episode that this would effect Michaela in my 'verse and I just_ had _to write it. I tried to fit in their worry for each other and Michaela while_ _keeping them professional as they worked the case._


End file.
